


My Wolf

by Skyroy14



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Ficlet, Legends, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Wolf!Derek, sterek, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyroy14/pseuds/Skyroy14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Stiles Stilinski and his wolf are legend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Um....well. I can never really figure out what to put in the notes of these things. So...pancakes are delicious. I guess.  
> Anyway, here's a story. A very short one. Oh, and if I miss any warnings or tags please tell me.  
> Enjoy.

My wolf and I are a story.

He the wolf is more legend than fact, built on the tongues of the citizens throughout the ages. I am more fact than legend, existing through belonging to the people of civilization.

As a child I learned to fear that legend. It kept me in my bed when it was dark and the moon hung low in the sky outside, ever bright.

But as I grew older, I wanted to know more about this wolf, this legend.

Beyond the information that he was a wolf, not much was known about him. He was a ghost in the night when the moon held its sway. He howls in the dark for his lost family. He is doomed to roam the land, cursed by a witch.

Or so I’m told.

They said in the legend that he will come in the evening and make off with some helpless child as his prey. I am not a child, but here’s hoping that he will not care. The old forest with its whispering leaves and gusting wind is his domain, so I travel there. Over and over, I return each night only to find no wolf.

Perhaps he was just a legend.

Hope dwindles with each passing night. I stop. But there is one night when the moon is full that I hear a howl, sad and alone. So I go back into the woods.

The wolf is not a wolf. Nor is he a man. He is something in between, able to go back and forth between forms. He is gruff and angry and means to scare me off. It doesn’t work. I return as soon as the sun is down, looking for a furred shape that streaks through the trees on four paws. I find him most nights and eventually in the day as well.

The wolf is quiet. He does not form many sentences or words. I find him intriguing. He allows me to make the conversations as we trek through the woods. His eyes watch me, intrigued as well. He learns to laugh and smile with me over time and joins in on the talks.

My wolf has blue eyes that glow like the moon, bright and beautiful. He stares at me when there are no more words. And at some point, we give in to roaming hands and whispered voices in the dark beneath the ever present moon.

We are discovered as is inevitable. I was too frequent in my visits to the forest and we were not careful, for we did not care.

The people argue and yell. They go after my wolf, into the forest to hunt him. My father and my friends go after to stop them, but when we reach the torches and the noise, there lays a dead wolf on the ground.

I lose time and go back to the mundane life before my wolf.

Until the moon once again becomes full and I hear a howl in the trees and follow the sound. And there is my wolf, dark and beautiful as he always was.

My wolf and I are a story. A story of a wolf that makes off into the night with the one he loves, and the one who loves him back.

My wolf’s name is Derek, and he is mine as much as I am his.

 


End file.
